TRIGGER WARNING: VOMIT MENTION AND SUICIDAL THOUGHTS IMPLIED
You closed your eyes and listened to the shouted conversation between Sam and Dad.
It was odd how much you missed Dean's voice, yet your skin now crawled at the sound of it.
Should I give up?
You considered your options. All were unpleasant.
Wait for him to come and find me?
Leave Sam, and flee from the bunker?
Run to my room and grab a weapon to defend myself with?
...End it myself?
The last option seemed more inviting than the others, but you shook it off. Uncle Sammy was forever telling you to always keep fighting, no matter what.
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So you gritted your teeth and sprinted, heading in the direction of your bedroom.
"Come on Sammy, let's have a beer, talk about this... and Y/N! I'm tired of playing, let's finish the game."
Dean's gravelly voice rung in your head. You could taste some more vomit in your throat. You were too tired to keep running. You were drained and hopeless.
You turned a corner and smacked into a solid force, sending you flying backwards.
